Played With You
by Progeny Ex Machina
Summary: "I did it." "Did what?" "I played with you." \\ Jadusable was not a victim of chance. Ben was much closer to him than he knew. A "what if" story.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** This story is based on an experiment of sorts. My objective was to take the first preposterous thought that popped into my head and build it up with canonical support until it could almost be counted as a theory, were it even remotely plausible. When I was told that it would make a good story, I thought, why not? So now I'm taking the summary I proposed as a crack theory and converting it into an AU fanfiction in its own right.

Wish me luck.

And yes, I know that MM cartridges were gold. However, the one in Jad's canon is gray, so I'm sticking with that. Maybe there was a production anomaly somewhere.

**Disclaimer:** Do I look like Jadusable to you? No? Good, because everything in this fic belongs to him, not me.

* * *

Don't talk to the neighbors.

That was the unspoken rule for the little street on the outskirts of the city. It was also the strictest. Nobody on that street spoke to anybody they did not already know. There were no block parties, no yard sales, and the words "trick or treat" had not been spoken there for decades. Not all of them knew why, but it was generally accepted that the neighbors were dangerous, and most people simply left it at that.

Of course, the air was thick with whispers. Some said there were crime families living in some of those modest little houses, calling their hits and plotting their heists from the inconspicuous comforts of suburbia. Some would maintain that there was a human trafficking ring in house number four, where three small children could occasionally be seen from the attic windows. Others were convinced of the torture chamber in the old lady's basement, and that the yowling cats were a ruse, a cover for the screams.

The truth was only as sinister as the rumors: the Father lived on that street.

The Father was the leader of the Moon Children, a shadowy cult of masks and scars and eerie chants. Nobody knew much about the old man or the strange religion he governed, save for one fact that nobody could ignore. At first glance, nothing separated a Moon Child from any ordinary member of society, but whenever there was a mysterious disappearance in that area, everybody knew immediately that the cult had had a hand in it. Nobody talked about the Moon Children, but they were always there, always in the corner of the collective mind of the populace.

Once in a while, there would be gatherings. Tens of people would scuttle to a house, any house, in the stillness of the evening; there was, in fact, a rhyme and a reason to which houses were chosen when, but that was of no concern to the outsiders. All they knew was that if they all kept quiet and said nothing to anybody, their lives would remain almost normal.

It was not so for the Children. Contrary to the title, the majority of the Moon Children were adults, although their own progeny were raised into the cult and inducted as soon as they came of age. That was the order of things, and the ritualistic nature of the cult ensured that the status quo was always intact. Every rule was followed; no decree was questioned. And everybody knew that defying the order of things would result in grave consequences.

But that did not mean that it never happened.

* * *

"This is the coolest game ever!"

A ten-year-old boy stood on a polished hardwood floor, his eight-year-old brother peering over his shoulder in awe at the small gray object he held in his hands. "And it just came out a week ago! Everyone's gonna be so jealous that I got it first!"

Looking at her sons' identical grins, the woman couldn't help but smile in return. "And you two are going to be good tonight and play quietly in your room while mommy and daddy have their important business meeting, right, boys?"

But before she had finished her sentence, they had already turned tail and darted up the stairs with the cartridge. She smiled wearily and shook her head. She knew she should be confident by now that they would stay out of the way; they always had. But every time their home was to become the meeting place for the night, she felt the dread rise up in her stomach, the fear of having her sons discovered. She had made her mistakes all those years ago; she was tangled forever with the Moon Children, but she refused to raise them into it. They would have their own lives, their own identities. They would never know.

They were the only thing left that was hers, and hers alone, and damned if she was going to let the cult snatch them away.


	2. Children

**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait. I have an idea of how I want to do this now, so it shouldn't happen again.

An issue was raised that I feel I should address. No, I don't know Jad's exact age for certain. I am going by secondhand information, which may or may not be accurate. I also do not have a definitive age for Ben, only knowing that he would have been in college now had he lived. I have attempted to do my research, so some things will be true to reality, but I cannot guarantee much of it.

Besides, it's a fanfic. I want to be sure of my information, but when I can't, I have artistic license on my side. After all, this is an alternate universe fic based on a crack premise; does it really matter if the characters' ages are off by a few months?

I have, however, corrected the ages in the previous chapter, simply because I forgot to account for the fact that it takes place a year and a half before Ben's death.

**Disclaimer:** *looks down* I have boobs. I guess that means I'm still not Jad. Therefore, I still don't own anything related to his ARG.

* * *

"Ben! Stop _doing_ that!"

"I can't help it!"

"Okay, just get up on the ice."

"I'm _trying_, but the stupid spiky fish keep getting me!"

"Just ignore them. Push the control stick forward, you'll get...oh."

"It melted..."

"All right, so go back to the platform and...Ben?" He looked over in surprise at his younger brother, who was staring off into space in what appeared to be abject terror. "Hey...what's wrong?" He took the controller from Ben's slackened grip and paused the game. "Why are you so scared of those fish?"

"There's just...so many of them," he mumbled, eyes fixed on a spot on the wallpaper that seemed to be peeling. "If you don't kill the big one, there's lots of little ones, and I keep thinking they're gonna...gang up on me and push me under the water..." He trailed off, looking down at his socks.

"Uh...Ben?"

"Y-yeah?"

"You're a Zora!" he exclaimed, incredulous. "You're a _fish-person_! You can't _drown_! You have _gills_!"

"I...I know that," Ben said, almost inaudibly. "But...can you...please just...do this part? Please?"

He looked at his little brother, who was now curled up in a ball on the patterned couch, head between his knees. He sighed. "All right," he said, and turned his attention to the screen. "But someday you're gonna...ugh, stupid melty ice blocks!"

* * *

"Do you know what I've always wanted to name a child?" she said wistfully, staring into the baby's eyes.

"Honey..." he said, warning in his tone. "That choice isn't ours to make."

"So?" she shot back fiercely. "I can still _think_ about it, can't I?" She turned back to look at the baby again, seeming to go into a trance, captivated by its tiny face, its fingers, its toes, its little navel that proved it was _hers_...

"He's mine," she whispered. Then, more clearly: "He's mine. He's not going to grow up in that mess." She stared her husband in the eyes. "We'll tell them the baby was stillborn. We'll raise him as a normal child. He won't have to pay for my mistakes. He won't."

Looking into her eyes, tired but determined, he sighed. "You know I'd go along with it," he said quietly. "I hate this as much as you do. But do you really think we could pull it off?"

"We'll have to," she said. "It's only right."

Grimly, they both looked into their newborn son's tiny blue eyes.

He began to cry.


	3. Disturbance

**A/N:** I've made some minor edits to the previous chapter. Nothing big, just added a bit more description.

**Disclaimer:** I am not Jad, and never will be. Will the army of fangirls at my door please disperse now?

* * *

He recoiled instantly, nearly dropping the controller as he stared at the screen in fear. "What IS that?"

"It's you," remarked Ben, pointing from his position on the arm of the couch (where their parents had told them never to sit). "See? It's you, but just different."

"It's_...creepy_," he choked out, eyes wide and fixated on the statue, whose unearthly face seemed to be looking out into the cluttered playroom. "It looks like it wants to eat my _soul_."

"Eat your soul?" he asked, flipping over so his head was near the older boy's legs. Ben looked up at his brother and raised his eyebrows. "It's not scary. It's supposed to help you. See, it says you can press switches and stuff."

"I don't wanna press switches," he muttered, setting the controller on Ben's face. It was quickly removed, with a sound of protest from the latter. "I hate this place. I hate the mummies, I hate the creepy music, and I hate this statue!"

"Come on," said Ben, now sitting upright with the controller in his lap. "It says you can do it when you're wearing a mask, so you don't even have to see it."

"I could've said the same about your stupid fish," he said without thinking, instantly regretting it (partly because of the Tinkertoy wheel his younger brother had thrown at his head in lack of a suitable response).

"You're bigger than me," Ben pleaded. "You're not supposed to be scared of anything."

"Yeah, except for stuff that's actually _scary_," he retorted. "I'm not scared of dumb stuff like fish. I'm only scared of stuff that's scary."

"The fish _are_ scary! They gang up on you all at once!" he whined. "The statue isn't gonna attack us, so it's not scary. It just looks like one of the people from the foosball table."

"The foosball table you broke?" shot the older boy accusingly. "It doesn't look like them. They have no faces."

"I didn't mean to break it..." mumbled Ben, looking in the opposite direction and idly focusing on the various Lego constructs on the painted shelf their father had installed. "It just happened."

He sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to yell at you. I just really don't like the statue." Ben looked back at him. "Can you do this part for me? Please? I did the water part for you."

"Okay." He picked up the controller and resumed the game. His older brother peeked through the gaps in his fingers to watch him play, wincing uneasily every so often at the various facets of the Stone Tower.

* * *

A knock on the door. That was something new.

John, like almost everyone else in the town, had not heard the sound of a doorbell or a knocker in years. Perhaps decades; he wasn't sure. So when he heard it, three sharp raps on the wood, he was certain he had been imagining it. But when they came again, he steeled himself, put down his coffee, and padded down to the landing. The peephole revealed a harried-looking woman with a strange bundle in her arms. She looked harmless enough, he thought, but placed his hand on a striped umbrella leaning against the wall - just in case.

He opened the door.

In addition to looking downright exhausted, he noticed, the woman was completely soaked. Glancing past her, he saw that it was raining. So the weatherman was wrong then. He was glad he hadn't chosen this night to meet his fiancée at the small hill outside of town, where they would talk, stargaze, and often spend the night. "What can I do for you?" he asked cautiously, peering at the bundle.

"Can you keep a secret?" she asked. Her voice was just as tired as her eyes, and yet both held a desperate quality that urged him to trust her. "I don't know what else to do."

"What do you need?" he asked, still wary.

She looked furtively around, as if to ensure nobody was listening in. "My baby," she whispered. "Just for the night. I can't let them discover him. They'll be here tonight. Please, keep him safe for me..."

He raised an eyebrow. "You want me to babysit?" Mentally, he ran through all the possible ways this stranger could be luring him into some sort of trap. There weren't many, and none of them threatened his life or livelihood. "How do I know you'll come back?"

"I'll leave this here," she said, producing a gold watch from the depths of her coat. John's eyes widened. "My mother...my mother left me this. It's my prized possession."

"...All right," he finally acquiesced. "Is there anything else I'll need to know?"

She shook her head, dripping water onto the small rug just inside the doorway. "Please, just keep him safe. I'll be back for him in the morning." With that, she placed the bundle in his arms, hung the watch by its band over one of the unused coat hooks on the wall, and turned to leave. One more look back at the baby, and she was gone.

He closed the door and looked down at the child, who was just waking up. "Well," he said, somewhat bemused. "Do you like cat toys?"


	4. Realities

**A/N: **I love reviews! :D Okay, that's out of the way. This is going to be a long A/N, so bear with me.

1: I've changed my decision on giving names to characters whose names we don't know for certain, such as the lawn-mowing neighbor and Ben's (or Jad's) mother, so accuracy is once again half-assed. Yay for creative license!

2: I was thinking about the fact that the cult members all used usernames rather than their real names, despite the website being a sort of cult headquarters, and came up with the idea that instead of being mere online usernames, they were names assigned to them upon induction. They keep their real names around for everyday life, but during rituals and stuff, they use their aliases. Hence why they're so strange. And if they, like, become higher-ranked or something, they change it...I don't know. I thought it worked for the story, what with the parents having had their identities sort of stripped from them.

Again, it's an AU. Pedantry will get us nowhere.

2.5: Also, any such "usernames" not mentioned in canon were obtained from captchas. Handy little things. :P

**Disclaimer: **If I were Jadusable, I would know the key for File 59. I don't. Therefore, by the law of the contrapositive, I am not him. Guess I'm paying more attention in math than I thought. Speaking of which, I'm totally not writing this instead of doing homework. That would be bad.

* * *

_-tell you the truth, I've gotten disillusioned with all these murders, they're just so frequent here that it isn't even-_

Click.

_-cleaning product in the nation, with a fifty percent higher customer satisfaction rate than the leading brands. Order now and get a free-_

Click.

_-body of the missing Steven Harris was discovered in the woods near his home, showing clear signs of having been strangled. His wife was not available for-_

"Ben, turn that off," he said, not bothering to look up from the worn remains of the label he was meticulously scraping off the cartridge. "I'm trying to concentrate."

He obliged, staring thoughtfully at the screen for a moment before turning to watch his brother's efforts over the back of the couch. "Do you have to peel off the label _now_? I wanna play it!"

"Just a second." Edging the last bits of sticky stuff off with his fingernail, he grabbed the sharpie and scribbled "Majora" across the front of the cartridge. "I don't want to lose it."

Ben rolled his eyes as his brother inserted the game into the console and turned it on. His mind, however, was not on the Woodfall Temple. Looking down at his hands, he asked quietly, "Why do so many people die around here?"

The older boy shrugged. "I don't know, Ben," he responded, uncharacteristically somber. "I guess maybe there are just a lot of bad people here." Noticing his brother's worried expression, he added, "You're too little to die. If a bad guy tries to kill you, I'll beat them up. How's that?" He grinned. "I'll be the good guy. The good guys always win."

Ben's mouth quirked upwards. "Yeah, they do." He knew that from television. "Thanks. I just get scared seeing it on TV all the time."

"Well, then don't watch the news, stupid." Despite the crude nickname, his playful tone made Ben smile. "Big brothers protect their little brothers, right? Now quit worrying about it. We need to finish this temple by nighttime." Picking up the controller, their thoughts turned to the tricky mechanics of when to jump out of the plant so as to land on the moving platform.

* * *

As babies, they had been very difficult to hide. All children cry, and while Ben in particular tended to do so nearly all the time, there was no possible way to guarantee that either of them would remain quiet for any given length of time. So they had had to think creatively.

The neighbor had been surprisingly accommodating. She knew exactly why trust was nonexistent on this street, being a member of it; however, even knowing for certain who was "safe" did not ensure that they could be trusted with what she needed. It wasn't as simple as it seemed to outsiders, she reflected, only halfway paying attention to the induction ritual for the thirteen-year-old boy standing in the center of her living room. Staying out of the way of the cult would have no bearing on whether they would be sacrificed. If anyone needed to worry about the neighbors, it was people like her, the ones who had devoted their souls to Luna. Secrets were much more precious than lives...or so the Father seemed to believe. She doubted he really heard Her - she was beginning to think that even Kelbris had simply been insane - but she was in no position to question any of it.

For the first few years, she had brought the children to his house, four doors down. She never learned his name, but he took decent care of them, and never asked questions. When they were old enough to keep quiet, though, she managed to convince them that if they interrupted the important meeting downstairs, mommy and daddy could be _fired_.

It wasn't entirely a lie. Immolation _was_ a potential consequence for high treason. Elemental deaths were reserved for use as punishments, while the mundane was used for targets. This boy in the center of their circle tonight was thirteen, only a week past his birthday, and he had already murdered three people. What was the point? If it was true that She was benevolent, why would She want sacrifices of the innocent?

It was only one of the many questions that had plagued her since the day she learned that _she_, her very being, had become the sole property of the Moon Children. She wasn't sure what she believed anymore. The only thing she knew was that she was no longer her own person, and not a day went by in which she did not regret allowing herself to be conned out of her identity.

She was no longer Karen; she was Zostera, faithful child of the Moon.

And there was nothing she could do about it.


	5. Foregone

**A/N: **Happy (very belated) 4/23! This chapter is...different. Both in chronology (it takes place a few months before the prologue) and in style - the story has been pretty slice-of-life up to this point, but starting from here, it gets heavier. Since the fic had pretty much been writing itself until I tried writing this chapter, I have a feeling that my sudden block is partly due to my worries about whether I can actually pull off any of what I have planned.

Also, if you'll notice, I updated the summary to put the title into context. I've never been entirely pleased with the title, but it's still the best I can think of, and I find mid-story title changes too awkward to consider unless the improvement is massive. And really, if you see innuendo in it, you're looking too hard.

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''''''''''''''''''''']]]ll,,,,,,,,,,,,ggggggggggggggggggggggfrrr=+7y8

Anyone who knows how to get cats to stop walking across keyboards, let me know.

**Disclaimer: **Jadusable owns the ARG. I am not Jadusable. Therefore I do not own the...wait...that's the fallacy of the inverse, isn't it? Hmm...

* * *

"Hey, look who's in the baby pool."

Ben groaned inwardly as they approached. There were three of them, and they had had a vendetta against him ever since he had eaten some of Lexi's crayons in kindergarten. He was small for his age, and they were large for theirs, so they usually got what they wanted. "What do you want?"

"What're you doing in the baby pool, huh? Can't you swim?" Daniel jeered.

"It's warmer in here," Ben declared. It was only part of the truth. He _couldn't _swim, but there was no way he was letting them know that.

"Huh, really?" said Lexi, eyes widening in a mockery of interest. She tilted her head with a knowing smirk and put her hands on her hips. "Well, I'm sure you can warm up the real pool if you want..."

"That was one time!" he contested hotly. "I'm not gonna pee in your stupid pool!"

"Then there's no reason to stay out of it, huh?" Daniel dipped a foot in the wading pool and kicked out, splashing Ben in the face. The smaller boy didn't react, save for wiping the water out of his eyes and glaring at the trio some more. "Prove it. Come in the big pool."

"I don't want to," he said. "I like it here." He traced the grout between the blue tiles along the edge of the small pool absentmindedly. "Besides, I don't wanna play stupid games like Marco Polo. Those are stupid."

"You think _everything_ fun is stupid," groused Alan. "Come on. Just get in the big pool with us. It'll be fun." He started to grin, but recoiled under Lexi's death glare, and hastily added, "And prove you're not a baby." He glanced at his leader for approval, and relaxed when she looked back at Ben and flipped her hair nonchalantly, beckoning him with her chin.

Ben didn't see any way out of this. The best thing to do, he reasoned, would be to play along. Maybe he could convince them that he was too cold and had to get out. Sighing, he eased himself up out of the wading pool, and tensely followed the others to the larger one ten feet away, wrapping his arms around himself.

"So? Get in." Lexi's tone was affable as always, which frustrated him. How could someone so mean sound so nice all the time? He wished Alan wasn't so obsessed with her. He could be pretty nice when he was alone, but he was easily swayed by Lexi. Ben couldn't help but wonder why. Girls were icky.

Carefully, he eased his way down the ladder, cringing with every inch of bare skin that touched the water. His hands gripped the metal bars tightly, while his head was turned partway around, ensuring that Daniel wasn't about to pull his trunks down. The large youth was notorious for doing that to pretty much anyone who wasn't paying attention. He seemed to think it was hilarious.

"There." He was standing chest-deep in the pool, facing the three. "Can I go now? It's too cold." His eyes flitted to the left, landing on the red whistle the lifeguard was twirling by its string.

There was no response for a moment. "You know what my swimming teacher always says to do when the water's cold?" Lexi asked airily, looking at Daniel and Alan with an unreadable expression. The former smirked, and the latter started chewing his lower lip; both swiftly made their way to either side of Ben, who nervously tried to keep an eye on both of them at once. "She says...put your head in!"

On cue, both boys grabbed hold of one of Ben's arms and yanked. Startled, he barely realized what was happening until he felt a beefy hand on his head push him down, under the water. His eyes widened, and he began to struggle against the boys' grip. Realizing he wasn't strong enough, he kicked out, hoping to connect with a shin, a crotch, anything. Thrashing wildly, his lungs burned, his throat seared, his ears filled with water until all sound was a distant blur - he vaguely heard what sounded like a whistle - his vision dimmed, his head felt dizzy, he was sure he was about to explode - he was let go, he was grabbed again, he was being pulled upward - struggling against this new grip - the feeling of cold air - distant voices, angry voices, scared voices, regular voices - something scratchy, no, what was the word - can't cough underwater, what was going on - they let go again - realizing he wasn't in the pool anymore, the familiar pebbly concrete under his legs - the others, where were they - who was there, what was going on, where was he - the light filtered in behind his eyelids - light fading, sound fading, everything was fading - so sleepy -


	6. Tension

**A/N:** Well, there's only a few more chapters in this section - two or three at most. After that, I plan to expand on the Haunted Cartridge arc of the canon and how Ben's history with Jad changes the meaning of his dialogue and actions.

Thank you q10 for helping me actually finish this chapter. I haven't lost interest in the story, but it's become harder to write for some reason. Looks like I'm just too easily distracted. XD Anyone with similar problems, look up q10. It's a great program, and it's free.

**Disclaimer:** Am I secretly male, older, and less prone to stress breakdowns over projects 1/100 the size of the BEN saga? Yeah, didn't think so.

* * *

"...so that's why I'm scared of the fish." He looked back up at his older brother, who was still staring at him incredulously. "They always make me think they're gonna grab me and..." Trailing off, Ben shrugged awkwardly and waited for a reaction. The other boy was opening and closing his mouth, looking rather like, well...a fish. Despite himself, Ben repressed a grin.

Eventually, his thoughts coalesced into words. "I...had no idea," he said, shaking his head. "I-I was away that year. I never heard anything about this." Then he realized something. "Is that why those guys all moved away that summer?"

"I don't know," Ben replied, looking back down at his hands and focusing on a particularly large freckle. "They just never came back. And I was glad they were gone, but it was also weird, how nobody said anything. No one ever talked about them again. I wish I'd asked where they went."

His brother was silent for a moment. "Well, I mean, it's good that they're gone, right?" He nodded in response to his own question, as if to convince himself of the answer. "Don't think about it. People just go away sometimes. I have a feeling it's not good to talk about it too much."

Ben's head shot up. "So you think I'm gonna vanish too?" he asked, panic written in his face.

"No," he stated immediately, more firmly than he believed. "I'll make sure you don't, okay? Who else is gonna do the scary statue part if you disappear?" He ruffled his brother's dirty blond hair, ignoring his protests. "I mean, I don't like when you eat all the marshmallows out of the cereal box, but I wouldn't push you underwater. That's stupid. They probably just went to jail or something."

"I didn't eat the marshmallows!" exclaimed a scandalized Ben. "I just took them for my art project! Jason was putting Cheerios on his and I wanted mine to be better!"

"Yeah, maybe that one time it was for a project. What about all the other times you eat all the good stuff?" Past trauma forgotten in favor of petty dispute, the two launched into an argument over cereal and chocolate chip cookies for the remaining minutes of the meeting downstairs.

* * *

He had been _looking_ at them a lot lately, she noticed.

Outsiders looked at him and saw a strange old man; Moon Children looked at him and saw a canny, dogmatic leader who was _not_ to be crossed. As higher-ranking members of the cult, she and her husband had regular contact with the Father, and it was starting to wear down on both of them. His one-eyed gaze, piercing and calculating, gave the impression that he knew all there was to know about the person he was looking at, and when he stared like that...it meant he knew. Knew that there was a secret being kept, and if that person wasn't exceedingly careful, he _would _find out what it was.

And with the children arguing so much nowadays, it was even more cause for concern. Neither of her sons had ever raised their voices during a "meeting", but that didn't ensure they would continue to behave indefinitely, and there was also the matter of being seen in public. She and her husband had stopped taking the children out unless necessary, trusting them alone at home a few years earlier than she would have liked. With the combined stress of that, the Father's suspicion, and the declining economy's impact on her day job, it often felt to Karen as if the entire world was pressing down on her.

Her husband felt it as well. Though he would never say so out loud, he carried an imminent sense of foreboding that followed him wherever he went. The leader of the cult had that effect on his followers; it was what made him the leader, in a perverse way. His power was something that was felt rather than explained.

Despite their respect for him, everybody in the cult knew that he was dangerous, more so than any other human being they had ever encountered. Rumors of what happened to those who broke the rules flew among the lower tiers, instilling a "healthy" fear in the neophytes, but only the upper tiers - trusted, veteran, devoted - could say for certain that they were all correct.

He, the husband, had taken it upon himself to browse residential listings online. Naturally, he had not told his wife of this endeavor; he did not want to worry her more than was necessary, but he was certain that the family would, eventually, have to leave. And the escape plan had to be impeccable. Months were spent on securing affairs as quietly and covertly as possible, spaced out so as not to attract attention. He reasoned that one could never be too careful, but the knowledge that they were running out of time spurred him to move as rapidly as he dared.

He would not watch his family be torn apart.


	7. Collapse

**A/N: **I'll let this chapter speak for itself...

**Disclaimer:** Would the real Jadusable be writing fanfic about his own work? I doubt it. He seemed kind of weirded out over the whole concept. Sorry Jad, but I'm not going to ignore this creative impulse. :P

* * *

"Ben. Give me the controller."

"I _told _you, it's my turn!" protested Ben. "You got to do the whole temple. I want to do the maze thing!"

"But you don't do it right! You always fall off and lose," insisted the older boy, reaching to pull the controller out of his brother's grip.

The controller was promptly yanked away by its holder. "So? Why do you care? Go play with something else if you don't want to watch me try it!"

"Because," he gritted, "last time I let you do it, you kept dying until the _moon_ fell on us! I tried to get you to just play the song and do the boss again after, but you wouldn't _listen_!"

"That was one time!" cried Ben. "You keep being mad at me for stuff I do just one time. It's not fair. And that boss is stupid!"

"Only cause you don't use the bow right," he asserted. "You keep-"

"You _always_ say I don't do stuff right!" Ben burst out. "You never let me do anything anymore because you say I do it wrong! Why do you even care? Play with something else if you want everything to be perfect!" He looked up at his brother fiercely, then recoiled instantly at the look he was given.

"Don't. Interrupt me," he snapped, clenching his fists and jamming them down into the cushions.

Ben ducked down, covering his head with his controller-laden hands. "I'm sorry I'm sorry please don't be mad," he pleaded quickly, beginning to shake.

He got up off the couch and stalked over to the dull green Lego box in the back corner. "Fine. I'll play something else. Have fun with your stupid maze," he grumbled, plopping down onto the worn beige carpet and grabbing hold of a half-finished construction. "And quit shaking," he added, not looking back. "You're scared of everything and it's really annoying."

"I can't help it..." he mumbled, staring at the screen for a few moments before resuming the game.

By the fifth try, though, his brother had abandoned the Legos and was hanging over the back of the couch. "Don't fall in the water there. If you do, you'll go too slow and you'll lose him," he criticized.

"The ledge is too skinny," Ben said matter-of-factly. "And I can always catch up. I just go to the left after that, and there's the room with all the jumping." Having reached said room, Link flipped and jumped from platform to platform, and was eventually misdirected by the control stick, falling to his doom. Ben groaned in frustration.

"You need to make sure you're going in the right direction." At this, Ben whirled around. "Do the target thing really fast and-"

"Quit. Telling me. What to do!" Ben snapped. "You were supposed to go play over there! I'm sick of you always saying how you're better than me at everything. Just leave me alone!"

The older boy's face contorted in anger. "It's my game too, and I want it to be done right! The problem is you do everything wrong and I want stuff to be _right_! If I have to do everything for you, then I will. You just can't _do_ anything, or else I would _let_ you!" he pressed.

"But then I never get to do _anything_!" Ben protested, hands tightening around the controller. "And you don't do everything right either. You're not better than me, so stop acting like you're the boss of me!"

Seething now, his brother shot back, "Well, I'm older, so I _should _be the boss of you!"

"I know you're older, stupid," Ben said levelly. "But that doesn't mean you do everything better than me. I still have to do the part with the statue because you're too much of a _baby _to-" At this, the older boy let out a strangled yell, darted over to the wall, grabbed a miniature train car, and hurled it at Ben's head. Ben threw himself to the floor, but he needn't have bothered; the throw went high, and slammed into a shelf on the opposite wall, knocking its contents down with a resounding crash.

Immediately, both boys froze.

Ben slowly pushed himself up from the floor, shaking substantially. "You shouldn't have done that..." he whispered, eyes fixed on the door.

"I know that," he hissed, but all malice was gone; his face had paled considerably and he, too, was focused only on the door.

Unconsciously, the boys moved closer together, waiting.

* * *

He didn't miss the abject terror that flitted across their faces for a fraction of a second. By the time the other Children realized what had happened, the two had schooled their expressions into mild annoyance. They were good. But not good enough.

Feeling all eyes on them, they didn't dare look at each other. "That'll be the cat," the host, Parignus, said apologetically, as his wife pushed herself up and half-walked, half-ran out of the room and up the stairs. "Truly sorry, Father."

He looked at Parignus: unmasked (they hadn't been required for tonight's meeting), carefully stoic, but tensed, rigid. He looked at the recently vacated space where Zostera had been. He said nothing.

* * *

Karen looked at her sons. They stared back, with all the evident fear of children who knew they were in trouble.

They had no idea.

After grappling for words for what seemed like an eternity, she finally spoke. "Get your suitcases out from under your beds," she half-whispered. "Pack everything you need. And stay up late. We're leaving at midnight, and we aren't coming back." At their shocked expressions, she hastily added, "Don't say anything. You can hate me all you want when we're safe. I mean, when we're gone. Somewhere else. Just...I'll explain everything later," she pleaded, struggling not to break down in front of the boys. "Please, just stay quiet until they're gone. You have no idea how important this is."

Neither of them responded, though their fear was now mingled with confusion and surprise. She could understand why. And as they turned around in a daze to drag their suitcases out and begin loading them up (she would have to check the contents later to ensure they'd thought of clothes and toiletries), she knew they were disturbed as well. Children weren't supposed to see their parents afraid, after all. But it would do them no good to try explaining now. It would take too long, and the Father was waiting.

They would have all the time in the world, if she could only get them out of there.


	8. Summit

**A/N:** This and the next were originally conceived as all one chapter, but the stopping point was just too good to pass up.

Also, there's a little mythology gag in here. Let's see who notices :)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the ARG, because if I did, it would probably suck. And the delays would be way longer.

* * *

"Everything's all packed?" Jerry asked in a whisper. Karen and the boys nodded. "Right." He turned to his younger son. "Ben, come with me, you're going to help load up the car." Ben nodded and followed, hoisting a backpack onto his shoulders. "You two stay here and keep an eye out." Then they disappeared down the dimly-lit hallway.

The older boy made his way over to the window and leaned his head against his arms as he scanned the yard. He didn't know what he was looking for, but it was probably burglars. They might want to take their luggage, he presumed, since they'd packed a lot of important things, like his textbooks. He _really_ didn't want to fail fifth grade.

Then again, he also didn't want to move to a whole different state. "Mom?" he asked, keeping his voice low as he was told. "Why are we moving away?"

Karen sighed, sitting down on the eleven-year-old's bed. "I'll explain it when we get there," she whispered. "I promise. I'll make it all up to you. You can have anything you want when we get there. I'll get you one of those beds that you have to climb the ladder to get into." He stared at her, wide-eyed. She watched the door, her stomach churning. _Where are they?_

"Are we gonna have a pool when we get there, Mom?" he asked. "I know Ben doesn't like going in, but I really like having a pool and I don't think..." He trailed off, blinking in the sudden light from the hall. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw his mother recoil at the silhouette in the doorway.

_That's not Dad..._

* * *

"Okay," Jerry whispered, catching his breath. "Let's go get some more bags from upstairs." He turned to reenter the house, but stopped when he heard Ben's surprised intake of breath. Whirling around, his eyes widened as he came face-to-face with about five very familiar masked visages.

"Dad?" the ten-year-old whispered, looking at him uncertainly. "Who are they?"

He didn't have time to answer before ten sets of hands were clapped onto their mouths, their arms were grabbed and held tightly behind their backs, and they were wrenched in the direction of the backyard.

* * *

She sat frozen in shock, willing the man to just go away. To leave them alone, to just let them go.

It was fruitless to hope; she had seen, once, what had happened to a Moon Child who had broken the rules. Mercy was not in the routine here, and pleading would be pointless. She found herself standing up and walking toward the door, silently begging her older son to stay inconspicuous, praying to whatever gods were out there that he wouldn't be noticed. If she came quietly, maybe they would leave him alone.

He watched his mother numbly turn the corner and disappear. The old man, however, lingered in the doorway, and he caught his gaze. For a moment, all stood still as the two made eye contact - one face tinged with fear, the other impassive. He took a quiet step back into the shadows of the bedroom, but said nothing.

Finally, the man spoke. "I'll see you again, Jadusable," he said enigmatically, almost inaudibly, and melted into the darkness, as the boy scrunched up his face in confusion at the appellation.

* * *

He turned his head when he heard footsteps. His wife was coming out to the pool, with the Father behind her ensuring she didn't try anything tricky. She looked in no state to do that, though, as she softly sat down next to him and Ben, allowing herself to be tied up as they were, staring blankly ahead at nothing.

Jerry longed to glance up at the window, longed to catch a glimpse of his other son, but he didn't dare. By some miracle, he hadn't been caught, and he knew better than to push their luck.

Ben shifted next to him. "Mom?" he asked quietly. "What's going on?" When she stayed silent, though, he turned his attention back to the strangers in masks. Two of them squatted behind his parents; two more stood close enough to him as to make him even more nervous than he already felt. The last one stood next to the creepy old man, who was holding something. Upon closer observation, he realized it was their game cartridge. _Hey! He stole that from my suitcase!_ With the latest save file only a half hour's play away from victory (he and his brother had quickly powered most of the way through after packing so as to get as far as possible before having to leave the console behind - who knew when they would get another?), the prospect of losing all their work wasn't a pleasant one.

As if on cue, the interlopers began muttering in unison. Ben couldn't make out what they were saying, but it sounded rhythmic, like chanting. "Whatever happens next," his mother whispered suddenly, shifting to look at him, "I-I'm sorry, Ben. I'm sorry..." His father said nothing, but the sound of his breathing was heavy and erratic. Ben blinked, realization settling in: this was _bad_. These weren't ordinary burglars. Something _really bad _was happening here. He fixed his gaze on the glinting sky-blue water in front of him, trying to focus on the gentle undulations and nothing else.

So he wasn't prepared when, in one fluid motion, the ropes binding him were suddenly cut and he was shoved into the water, trapped below the surface in an iron grip.


	9. Exeunt

**A/N:** Erm, well, I did take a class that turned out to be very time-consuming...but it ended in mid-August. It's early October. I have no decent excuse. Sorry.

A semi-recent post on SixBillionSecrets gave me pause with its relevance to this part of the story. In a way, I think it helped me connect more to this chapter, which is a good thing from a writing standpoint, but it's sad that something similar happened to someone in real life. :(

By the way, this is _not_ the last chapter. It's just the end of "act one", so to speak.

**Disclaimer:** As you can tell, I'm still fixated on Jad's little story. So, obviously, I'm not him. *rimshot* ...that was terrible, I know.

* * *

A scream rent the crisp night air, bringing an abrupt halt to the crickets' nocturnal symphony. Four doors down, a champagne glass shattered on the tile floor. Lights flicked on behind coarse curtains, dotting the view with dimly glowing squares, though some were extinguished just as quickly. The faint sound of a back door creaking open - or perhaps shut - permeated the silence. The street seemed to hold its breath, unsure of what was happening and unwilling to find out.

Though quickly gagged after her initial outburst, Karen continued to thrash against her captors' grip, muffled yells escaping her throat as she was held tightly in place by four viselike hands. Beside her, Jerry had gone pale, and sat frozen in place, staring in a horrified daze at the newly troubled water, eyes unable to focus on what was happening underneath the surface.

* * *

Shock. A sharp intake of breath, instinctive, but it cost him. Coughing underwater, a vicious cycle. A scream from above. Kicking his legs - the water slowed his movements, felt like mud. His arms were pinned in place, no leeway, far too strong. His body quickly started to ache from his futile struggling. The other side of the pool, a mile away, vision obscured. Lungs, throat, mouth, nose, begging for air - none to be had - his entire world was water. The hopeless reality haunted a dim corner of his mind, but that didn't matter he needed to breathe he needed to fight to get away break the grip. Head spinning - eyes glazing over - keep moving keep trying keep pushing - _look up_

The last thing he saw before succumbing to the darkness, curiously clear through the undulating filter across his line of sight, was the look of horror on his brother's face, framed in the upstairs window.

* * *

Save for the occasional convulsions, the boy had stopped moving. The old man smiled, a deeply unsettling expression to all who were familiar with his ways. He knew full well his effect on his children; in fact, he reveled in the fear he inflicted, tasting its power until he was as great as Luna herself. The boy was undone, and with him went more than ten years of deceit. He would never admit it to anyone (trust was too dangerous in his position), but secretly, he was astounded at the length of time for which the two sons' existence had been thoroughly hidden.

It was good, he mused, that there was a second child. The younger had been a necessary sacrifice, a punishment of the highest order for treachery. But ingenuity like theirs was to be respected, and their legacy now lived on.

Of course, he alone knew that Ben also lived, albeit only in a state of limbo, a false world, until he was...needed.

He tucked the cartridge away and smiled to himself.

* * *

From the second-floor window, he stared down at the rippling water. Long after Ben's eyes left his, he remained frozen, unseeing, fixed on that spot where his brother had been. The reality dawned on him slowly, like an old computer just booting up. Ice spread from his chest and out through his veins. He didn't realize he was shaking until the shuddering sounds of his breathing penetrated his fog.

_I..._

Fighting the growing urge to vomit, he tore himself away from the window ledge and stumbled over to the bed, bracing himself on the frame. He couldn't see anything in front of him. The image of Ben's face beneath the water, one he shouldn't have been able to see from so far up, burned into his eyeballs until he could no longer tell whether they were open or shut.

_...killed him..._

Thinking back on his childhood, he realized he couldn't recall a time when his parents didn't seem fearful, just below the surface, haunted by some ghost only they could see. Was this what they had been so afraid of all their lives? Was this why he and Ben had always been confined to the second floor? To protect them? Well, he'd done a great job, then, ruining everything...

_...it's..._

As the pieces fell into place, powered by the revelation that these dangerous people had been in his life the whole time, he sank down onto his knees, brain working in overdrive despite his best efforts to stem the tide of thoughts. They had been about to escape, he realized. He had broken the charade and they were going to flee.

_...my fault..._

If they had been half an hour earlier, they would have made it. He wondered if they had a house lined up where they were going, or if they had planned to find one after they were safe. He wondered if they were even going to move now at all.

_I killed him...it's my fault..._

He didn't think he cared anymore.


	10. Interlude

**A/N:** Happy 2012, everyone! The only valid excuse for the delay at this point is "I'm ridiculously lazy".

I've had a few comments about how it can be difficult to follow conversations at times. Most of the problem probably comes from the fact that I decided to leave "Jadusable" unnamed, and while I don't intend on changing that part, I'll try my best to make it clearer.

For those of you who don't know about SOPA/PIPA, look it up. It's an ongoing concern that will undoubtedly affect FFN. Awareness makes a difference.

**Disclaimer:** I'm not Jad (somehow I don't think I'd be going to an all-girls school if I were), and therefore I don't own his stuff.

* * *

The new kid was weird, Mike decided.

There was nothing outwardly remarkable about him. He wasn't too tall or too short, too fat or too skinny. At first, the only thing that separated him from anyone else in the class was the fact that he had joined so late in the year. But after a while, it became evident that he wasn't like the others. He rarely spoke, and when he did, he never said any more than he had to. He wore the same oddly blank look around all day. He didn't get angry when David accidentally spilled grape juice on his half-finished math homework, nor did he partake in the cheering when the teacher announced an ice cream party for the last day of school. He didn't join in at recess, preferring instead to sit on the benches and watch, even when Mike and his friends had offered him a spot on their kickball team one day. When his parents had come in for the annual parent-teacher breakfast, they had acted similarly reserved around the other adults, and jumped when anyone tried to talk to them. None of his classmates knew anything about the strange family (although Allen clung stubbornly to the belief that they were Martians), and for the most part everyone avoided them, seeing no purpose in engaging someone who clearly didn't want to be engaged.

* * *

"Do you think we should, I don't know, take him to therapy?"

"What good would that do?" Jerry hissed. "He tells them what happened, they'll get the police involved, and it'll all come back to find us." Karen opened her mouth, but he interrupted. "Look, I'm just as concerned as you are. Lu-er...God knows I want him to grow up sane and healthy. But he'll have to keep quiet if we don't want all that...that business to haunt this place too. And if he can't even say what the problem is, they'll just push him until he either spills it or has a total breakdown."

"But hon...that's just it," Karen whispered, shaking her head. "I don't think he remembers what the problem is."

Jerry paused, the intent fading from his face. "What?"

"He doesn't remember any of it. The memory, it's all gone." She took a shuddering breath. "He doesn't even know he had a brother."

* * *

Frustration was new to him.

The Father had known the two were hiding something from him. But as the weeks turned to months, he was no closer to _knowing_ than he had been from the start. The thought of confronting them never came to mind; it wasn't in his nature. He never _had_ to ask questions. He always learned what he wanted to know.

But until now, he had never had to find out from another source. His children always betrayed their secrets, never even realizing they were doing so. He found his answers in their eyes, their postures, the slightest of vocal inflections. If the boy had not given himself and his brother away, he thought...well, the prospect of not knowing was disturbing to the old man. He could not say how long he would have lasted.

Such skill, such finesse in hiding such a precious secret. There were reasons, after all, for his decision to accept those two into his personal circle. The Father knew more about his children than they themselves could ever understand. He chose his closest followers with care.

He smiled to himself. They had not truly outwitted him. A plan that exposes itself is imperfect, after all. But, he conceded, they had gotten very close. And that was worth his respect.

Holding the cartridge tightly in his hands, he pushed away the past and focused on the future.

* * *

Ben awoke, confused, in a dimly lit space paved in damp stone. He couldn't detect any physical effects from being...drowned? He was dead, right? He should be. But...

Easing into a sitting position, he took in his surroundings. He was not in a home, or any type of building he recognized. The air hung over him, a strong musty scent assaulting his nose. The sound of running water filtered into his ears from somewhere nearby, as well as something vaguely mechanical, and another sound that he couldn't quite identify. It felt familiar somehow.

As his eyes adjusted, he realized that the sound of water came from an alcove in the ground, where a waterwheel processed a small, murky stream. As his mind reeled, one thought stood out: he had to find a way back. The only light he could see was coming through a small crack under a large door nearby. He made his way to the short set of steps leading to the door, still trying to grasp the faint, almost haunting tune that seemed to permeate the room, when all of a sudden he was jarred out of his thoughts by a chuckle that made his hair stand on end.

"You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?"


End file.
